


Proof

by useyourtelescope



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling Asleep on Each Other, Hurt/Comfort, Investigations, Journalism, Pining, Undercover as a Couple, basically cosy crime vibes in a modern au with newspaper investigations and romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27782929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/useyourtelescope/pseuds/useyourtelescope
Summary: Ever since their freshman year, Bellamy and Clarke have been competing to cover the best stories, and no one at Arkadia U News is expecting their senior year to go any differently.However, that all changes when the first big scoop of the year involves the shady dealings of one of their former teachers: Professor Cage Wallace. Their competitiveness pales in comparison to the desire to expose their mutually despised professor, and it’s easy for them to agree to put their rivalry aside and work together just this once.What’s not so easy? Realising getting to the bottom of this story will require them to pretend to be a couple...
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34
Collections: t100fic4blm Donation Celebration





	Proof

**Author's Note:**

> Hello 😊 This fic has been written for t100fic4blm Donation Celebration, which was to celebrate raising $2,500 through the initiative. Today is the first posting day and it will continue until next Sunday, so there will be lots of fics to enjoy!  
> For the donation celebration fics we had to choose 1 theme and 4 tropes out of the ones that were voted most popular. For my theme I chose University AU and for my 4 tropes I chose fake dating, hurt/comfort, falling asleep on each other, and oblivious pining.  
> Writers were then paired with creators to make content to go with their fic. silvernyxa has made some really cool art to accompany this fic, which you can find [here on tumblr](https://silvernyxa.tumblr.com/post/636157824803700737/proof-art-for-a-bellarke-fic-by-useyourtelescope).  
> Also, thanks to writetheniteaway for reading over this 💙

Clarke took a deep breath before pushing her chair back and standing up from her desk. Resisting the urge to smooth down her sweater, she neatly tucked her chair in and started to walk across the large room that was home to Arkadia University’s student newspaper office. She couldn’t quite believe she was actually going to do this, but she’d been debating it in her head all morning, to the point of distraction during her class earlier that day. 

Anyone who knew Clarke knew she’d never approach Bellamy Blake of all people for help if she had any other option. Unfortunately, that was just the position she found herself in when she reached her rival’s desk, trying not to grimace at the sight of the cocky smirk on his face that he was graciously bestowing on the dark-haired girl perched on the side of his corner desk. She would have preferred not to do this when they could be seen by anyone, but if Clarke was going to have made progress in time for her evening study session she couldn’t wait for Bellamy to finish flirting with his latest conquest. 

Besides, although Clarke didn’t know the name of the girl who was currently tittering away at whatever remark Bellamy had just made, she recognised her as one of the freshmen interested in joining the paper that Wells had shown around their office last week. Whether this girl had decided to join their ranks or just taken a liking to one reporter in particular, she wouldn’t know that Clarke’s appearance at Bellamy’s desk was out of character, which was all that mattered right now. 

Not wanting to have to hear Bellamy turn the charm on with this girl (she gagged internally at the thought), Clarke put her hands on her hips and was about to speak to draw his attention, when Bellamy turned his head and noticed her.

He raised a curious eyebrow at Clarke and stopped leaning backwards in his chair. 

“Griffin?”

“Blake,” was her only response. She wasn’t about to explain herself in front of one of his admirers.

Thankfully, Clarke coming directly up to his desk was a rare enough occurrence that it clearly piqued his interest. Bellamy immediately turned back to the girl and asked if he could catch up with her later. 

She nodded, adjusting her hold on the textbooks in her hands and standing. “Bye Bellamy,” she said, her voice a little breathless, forcing Clarke to reign in a roll of her eyes.

“Good luck with your exam,” he replied with a wave. She replied with her thanks before practically skipping away from them and out of the room.

“A little young for you, don’t you think?” Clarke couldn't help saying once she had seen the last of the girl’s swishing ponytail. She normally avoided commenting on his steady stream of admirers, but as far as she’d seen the ones that became actual conquests (as none had become girlfriends) had been either in their year or often in years above, until this year when they became seniors. Despite them both being in the same year at college, Bellamy had taken a few years off after high school before enrolling at college so he was four years older than her—there was a story there, but Clarke didn’t know it. 

They weren’t exactly close.

He only smirked at the barb and ran a hand through his perpetually unruly dark locks. “Just being friendly to the new recruits. What brings you here on this fine day, Clarke?”

She twisted her lips, glancing around the office again. Many of their fellow newspaper staff were in classes or out on assignment or other activities. She and Bellamy were among the few who spent most of their non-class time working on the paper, developing their reputations of being the top writers for Arkadia U News while they were still sophomores. Those reputations also meant people didn’t expect to see them talking to one another collegiately, but at least there weren’t many people around to notice.

She looked back at him, deciding to ignore his smirk and just bite the bullet. “Look, I need your help.”

His surprise only lasted a few short seconds, soon morphing into an annoyingly smug expression that had Clarke crossing her arms in front of her chest in a huff as Bellamy leaned back in his chair, eminently pleased with himself. “Well, well, well. Never thought I’d hear you admit it, Griffin.” 

Clarke glanced at her watch. “Just tell me how long you are planning on gloating so I can come back later when you’re done.”

Bellamy chuckled. “No need, I can work and gloat at the same time. What do you want me to look at? Your piece for next week’s edition?” he guessed. “Or are you having trouble with your pitch for the centennial?”

Clarke’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Wait, you think I want your advice? I don’t need you to edit my work!”

Bellamy matched her frown. “Don’t look mad at me, you’re the one who came over here and said you wanted help.”

Clarke opened her mouth to retort, but realised suddenly that he had a point—what else was he supposed to assume when she said she needed help? Bellamy somehow knew just how to push her buttons and her temper flared up so quickly with him, even though she could be patient with everyone else. She was going to have to get better control of that if what she was going to propose had any chance of working. 

Besides, he wasn’t entirely off the mark with his second guess. If they managed to crack the story she wanted to investigate in time, it would certainly be her piece for the hundredth anniversary edition of the paper, coming up in six weeks. But that particular milestone wasn’t what was driving her to look into this story even after Wells’ naysaying—nor was it the allure of what would certainly be a front-page story. Now that the paper was largely online with a printed version only issued once a month, those opportunities were much fewer, and she’d lost the last two to Bellamy. 

Still, it was a more personal reason—some might say vendetta—that had her pursuing this story and that was a reminder of why Bellamy, for all his many other flaws, was the perfect perfect person to assist her. 

Remembering the seminar she had gone to with her mother last year on body language, Clarke let her arms drop from a defensive position and left them to hang by her sides before trying again. 

“I have a lead,” she explained. “But Wells doesn’t think it’s enough to merit an investigation and assigned me a different story.”

She could see by the curious glint in his eyes that had secured his attention, and it wasn’t hard to guess why. Everyone knew she and Wells had been best friends since long before college. In fact, one of Bellamy’s recurring complaints after Wells became Editor last year was that Wells gave Clarke more leeway with her stories due to their personal relationship. Although Clarke could—if pushed—agree that Wells did often come round to her story ideas more quickly than Bellamy’s proposals, she believed that was only because they were usually on a similar wavelength, whereas Wells didn’t always see where Bellamy was coming from. He was normally persuaded by Bellamy to let him do the story he wanted eventually, far more than anyone else—not that Bellamy had stuck around to listen the one time Clarke had tried to explain to him why her connection with Wells didn’t automatically mean there was favouritism.

He tapped his chin thoughtfully as he turned over this new information in his mind. “So, what, you want me to investigate instead so you can keep your hands clean for Jaha?”

“No,” Clarke said immediately. “I’m not letting you have this story!” Realising she had started to raise her voice, her eyes darted around to check she hadn’t drawn any unwanted attention. Bryan was at his desk, but his oversized headphones were obviously on full volume and he continued typing away, head down. She turned back to Bellamy, moderating her voice. “This is  _ my  _ story, but it’s too big to investigate alone.” She took a breath before saying, “We could share the credit.”

Bellamy studied Clarke, seeming to realise this was a big concession for her. “And why me? I mean, contrary to popular belief I don’t go against Jaha on purpose because I want to get on his bad side.”

“It’s just your natural charm,” Clarke quipped, but she was unprepared for the sudden flash of dazzling smile he sent in her direction in response.

“Of course,” he said, his eyes practically twinkling at her before his expression returned to normal. Seemingly oblivious to Clarke’s sudden—and very unwelcome—increased heartbeat, he continued more plainly, “You could have asked Monty or almost anyone else? I’m sure most people here would have followed your lead even if they knew Jaha had said no.”

Clarke was surprised he would acknowledge her weight at the paper despite not technically having a leadership role, but only replied, “They might have, but I thought you would have the drive for this particular story.”

Bellamy grinned, leaving back in his chair. “I certainly have the drive,” he said, his eyebrows waggling as he emphasized the last word.

This time, Clarke was less charmed by his quip, rolling her eyes and ignoring his comment. “It’s about Professor Wallace.”

The front legs of Bellamy’s chair landed back down on the ground with a thud. “You have dirt on Cage Wallace?” 

“I might.”

Bellamy cocked his head, studying her. “Well, which is it? If I’m going to agree to help you I need to know what I’m getting mixed up in.”

“I don’t have a lot of details yet,” Clarke admitted. “But a source overheard a very interesting conversation between Professor Wallace and his teaching assistant.” Bellamy looked skeptical until she continued, “And I followed it up with a little digging of my own; Wells says there isn’t enough there but I think it’s promising.”

Bellamy nodded slowly then, his elbows coming to rest on the desk and his chin sat on top of his hands. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Clarke repeated, unable to keep the surprise from her voice. She might not have been willing to plead for his help, but she had expected to do a little more convincing to get him on her side.

Bellamy shrugged. “Look, if some random source told you something, that’s one thing, but if  _ you’ve  _ found there might be something there, I’m willing to look into it.”

“You are?”

“You’ve got a good eye for a story,” Bellamy said as if it was the kind of thing he said every day.

Clarke stared at him, her eyes widening. “I think that’s the first nice thing you ever said about me.”

“To your face,” Bellamy replied. He spoke in the manner of a comeback, but given the implication was a compliment Clarke could only continue to stare, stunned.

“Are you trying to rattle me?” she asked finally, prompting a bark of laughter from Bellamy. 

“I don’t see what’s so surprising. You wouldn’t be a worthy rival if I didn’t think you were a decent journalist, Griffin.”

To her annoyance, she could see his point. “I suppose you are a good writer,” she conceded. “Sometimes.”

He smiled. “So, what’s the plan? We look into your lead on Wallace together and hope our mutual hatred for him doesn’t cloud our judgement when it comes to putting the story together?”

“I’m rather hoping that hatred will give us the proper motivation to get to the bottom of it all.”

“But you’ll be writing the piece.”

“You can have an ‘Additional Reporting’ byline,” Clarke said. “As long as you do your fair share of investigating.”

Bellamy nodded in agreement. “Well, for that I’m going to need to know exactly what I’m investigating. So, tell me, Clarke,” Bellamy said, leaning back in his chair once more and twirling his pen between his fingers, “what have you got on Cage Wallace?”

* * *

In Clarke’s sophomore year of college, she’d had the misfortune of enrolling in an Ancient History class taken by the newest member of staff, Professor Cage Wallace. She’d just decided her major would be Art History—much to her mother’s disapproval—and had thought it would complement the art classes she was enrolled in for the year well. 

She already knew Bellamy since they had both joined the paper as freshmen, but after a slight acknowledgement when they arrived for their first lecture they had both headed to opposite sides of the hall, and their mutual preference to sit alone rather than near each other had convinced her they would spend the rest of the class ignoring each other. However, it wasn’t long before they were united by their disdain for their professor. 

At first, Clarke had thought Professor Wallace simply didn’t know how to teach well yet; she didn’t know enough about the subject matter to criticise the content of the course. By their third class though, she’d begun to realise that some of what he was teaching didn’t line up with the extra reading she’d been doing, not least because Bellamy and some of the other more knowledgeable students were commenting back in class as much as he would let them get away with. She would never have admitted it to Bellamy, but she got the most out of what she had later read from the sources Bellamy had cited in his class arguments with Professor Wallace—not that straying from Wallace’s recommended reading list had served her well in her assignments. That barely passing grade was still a blight on her record, even if her scores for the rest of her classes meant her GPA remained high. 

She knew more than one person from their class had complained about him, but most hadn’t gone anywhere. The notes about the course being too narrow had been returned with comments that it was the professor’s choice as to what to focus on and that the university offered other courses that may have been better suited to those complainants’ interests. Clarke’s misgivings ultimately had been more about Professor Wallace’s attitude—his smug, overbearing sneer as he so obviously thought he was better than his students. In Clarke’s opinion a person who cared most about being right and knowing more than everyone else had no place being a teacher, but she supposed her complaint had come off too personal for it to have been taken seriously. 

Bellamy had been smarter in his complaint, only criticising Wallace’s teaching style, even though he more than anyone had cause to complain about their professor’s attitude in class. Apparently,  _ that  _ had been mentioned by enough people that it had led to a more senior member of staff monitoring Wallace’s classes the next semester, though Clarke didn’t have high hopes that it had helped much. 

She had supposed back then that they had been more lenient with him, being a new Professor, but in their last conversation on the subject, at the end of sophomore year party hosted by the paper, Bellamy had commented that he likely had an in with the board. At the time she had been somewhat tipsy on Monty’s punch and had taken this as a not so thinly veiled comment against Wells since his father was on the board too. As a result, she had started an argument with Bellamy, until Monty and Wells had pulled them to opposite sides of the room. 

Knowing what she knew now, Clarke wondered if Bellamy had a point. 

Not that she thought less of her journalistic instincts for not suspecting a bigger story back then. After all, everyone had professors they didn’t like: you couldn’t go around suspecting every bad professor of illegal activity. 

She wasn’t about to remind Bellamy of his previous hunch right now though; his ego certainly didn’t need the help. 

She flipped open her notebook as she waited for Bellamy to finish his phone call so they could get down to business. They had left the office—more because she didn’t want people to overhear the story until they had more concrete information than because she didn’t want to be seen with him, but it was a nice bonus—and found a nice space outside in a courtyard not far from the sports center since Bellamy had soccer practice after this. He’d gotten a call just as they arrived though, so Clarke was sitting alone while Bellamy took his call a few feet away.

She found herself tapping her pen against her notebook out of habit rather than impatience, but when she noticed the strained sound in Bellamy’s voice she stopped, not wanting it to seem like she was trying to hurry him up. Her journalistic instincts couldn’t help pick up some of his conversation, especially considering how little other noise there was to distract her, but having heard him say ‘Octavia’ she had gleaned he was talking to his sister and she felt a little bad to overhear a private family call.

Clarke certainly wouldn’t have wanted Bellamy—or anyone if it came to that—to have overheard any of the calls she’d had with her mother recently. 

She was just debating getting her headphones out when he ended the call and joined her on the opposite side of the bench.

“Everything okay?” Clarke asked. 

“Like you care,” he said, a little rougher than he had been earlier. 

She bit down on the impulse to rise to his aggravated tone. “Just trying to be nice,” she said carefully. “We are going to have to work  _ together _ , after all.”

She watched his throat work before he blew out a harsh breath. He seemed to have calmed somewhat when he met her eyes. “Just family stuff,” he admitted.

Clarke nodded, trying to make it seem like this was new information. “Is now a bad time?”

“No,” he responded, quick enough that she believed him. “Now’s fine.” He punctuated this by taking his satchel off his shoulder, flipping the front open and taking out his notebook. 

As he did so, Clarke noticed the book behind it—a college prospectus. 

The wheels immediately started turning in her brain. She knew vaguely that he was interested in staying in the area like her, and she had wondered if they would end up going after the same jobs if they both decided to follow a journalistic path. It seemed odd to think that she might be out there working, but Bellamy would still be in college—maybe still at Arkadia U News, but without her. 

Normally she would have questioned him about it, but after the phone call, she decided not to push her luck. 

“So,” she said when he looked ready, “you know how Professor Wallace’s family owns the old museum?” 

“Sure,” Bellamy replied. “But if there’s anything shady going on there that doesn’t mean you can necessarily tie it to Cage—not that it wouldn’t be a good story but—”

“Will you let me finish?” Clarke interrupted.

“Get to the point then,” Bellamy said. “You know this is your problem with your articles.”

Clarke ground her teeth. Any charitable feeling she’d had towards him after his unexpected compliment in the office or sympathy after his stressful phone call immediately vanished. “Did I  _ ask _ ?”

Bellamy held his hands up in mock surrender. “Go on.”

“I think Cage is using his family connections at the museum to smuggle artifacts on the black market.”

“And what have you got on him so far?”

“That's it?” Clarke said, a little disappointed not to have provoked a larger reaction. 

“Well, I already knew it was something to do with Cage and you mentioned the museum, there’s not a lot of things it could be,” Bellamy said with a shrug.

“I’d have thought the fact that our old Professor could be running a smuggling ring would warrant a little more than—” Clarke finished her statement by copying his shrug, only hers was far more pronounced in the drop of her shoulders.

Bellamy smiled. “Is this better?” he asked before clapping his hands to his cheeks and opening his mouth in an overly fake look of surprise, somewhat akin to ‘The Scream’.

Despite herself, Clarke giggled. He did look pretty funny. “Yes, much more appropriate,” she said sarcastically. 

Then, she followed his request and told him what she knew. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this first chapter! 😊 Don’t forget to check out the awesome art silvernyxa made to accompany the fic on [tumblr here](https://silvernyxa.tumblr.com/post/636157824803700737/proof-art-for-a-bellarke-fic-by-useyourtelescope).  
> Note the celebration fics do not mean the initiative is over - far from it! You can still donate to prompt the various writers (and many of us are taking prompts for WIP updates as well as new fics) and creators (for fanart, gif sets, moodboards, and more); all the details are on the [carrd here.](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/)


End file.
